


Wearing His Clothes

by FlyingPigMonkey



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Fingerfucking, Gift Fic, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Romance, Rough Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2012-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-20 08:46:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyingPigMonkey/pseuds/FlyingPigMonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"John knew full well how Sherlock felt about John wearing his clothes."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wearing His Clothes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xxignoredxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxignoredxx/gifts).



> Here is my submission to the Johnlock Gift Exchange over on tumblr. My gift was for tiestomyheart (or xxignoredxx on ffNet and AO3) with the prompt of “Sherlock’s purple shirt of sex”
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!!!!! I do not own Sherlock BBC, I am just a fan-girl!

_He’s wearing that damn shirt again._ Sherlock thought to himself as he glanced up to watch John enter the kitchen from their bedroom, Sherlock’s tight purple shirt hanging unbuttoned over his broad shoulders. The doctor nonchalantly walked across the tile floor into the living room and bent over his desk, revealing a tight red silk pair of boxer briefs.

Sherlock’s boxer briefs. 

John knew full well how Sherlock felt about John wearing his clothes. But now was not the time. He was trying to do some important research about the different rates and characteristics of the decay of human flesh when emerged in different bodies of water for a case Lestrade was so insistent Sherlock help him with. A suspects alibi was dependant on what he found. He could not afford any distractions… 

_Did John just drop that book on purpose?_ He turned back to the laptop in front of him, but instead of burring himself back into his work he watched John out of the corner of his eye as his flatmate bent over to pick up what he had dropped. He squatted down in just the right way that the waistband of his pants slipped down to reveal the top of his ass. Sherlock fought back a moan, but he was sure by the smirk on John’s face that he had heard it anyway. The other man said nothing, instead he walked back to the bedroom and left the door open a jar. 

A couple minutes later, the door opened back up and John walked back into the kitchen. Sherlock’s jaw almost dropped in want as he took in the sight of John just in the purple shirt, seeming to have lost his pants somewhere in the last few minutes. His cock stood nearly straight out, obviously nearly painfully hard. “Almost forgot some tea,” He explained innocently as he filled the kettle with fresh water and placed it on the stove top to boil. As the water heated, he moved to the cupboard to find two cups and Sherlock could hear as his dick bumped into the counter below. John gasped from the sensitivity, but kept going about his business gathering the cups, tea, and sugar. Once he had everything in front of him, he turned to Sherlock and casually asked, “How’s the research going?” 

Sherlock’s gaze flicked quickly from John to his computer screen and back again as he shifted slightly, trying to find a position that would give his rapidly hardening cock some relief from his tight trousers. “Fantastic,” he replied, fighting the impulse to jump his lover right there. 

John smiled in response, “Good, very good!” The teapot began whistling just at that moment and John turned away to get the pot, giving Sherlock a good view of two round cheeks poking out from under his shirt. The detective balled his fists as the doctor prepared their tea, leaving Sherlock’s next to him and taking his own back into the bedroom. The door stayed wide open this time. Sherlock heard him settle down on the bed; it was all he could do to keep himself on his stool and get back to work. 

However all hopes were dashed several minutes later when the sound of ruffling cloth followed by a soft sigh floated out from the bedroom. The detective paused in his thinking for a moment to listen for more. _He’s masturbating, the bastard._ Try as he might he could not get his glorious mind to focus back on the case, and instead started picturing just what John must look like right now, withering on the cotton sheets with his fat cock in his hand, slowly rubbing from the base up the shaft before flicking his thumb over the head and rubbing back down. Maybe his other hand is playing with a nipple, or is wrapped up in the blankets as a way to keep himself grounded. 

Sherlock could only take a moment or two of this new torture before he jumped up from his seat, knocking over the stool in the process and leaving it where it lay, and nearly ran to the bedroom as he unbuttoned his black shirt. What he came upon, however, nearly made him come undone where he stood. Instead of rubbing one out John was up on the bed on all fours with one hand reaching back to his arse, slowly preparing himself. 

“You’re an arse, have I told you that lately?” Sherlock asked, tossing his shirt to the ground and unfastening his trousers, pulling them down just far enough to expose his aching cock to the air. 

John smirked up at him, “It worked, didn’t it?” 

He snorted in response, “Isn’t there something more useful you could be doing with that mouth of yours?” Sherlock moved close to the bed, taking himself in hand and rubbing his leaking head across John’s lips. John quickly took him in his mouth, sucking hard as he ran his tongue along a vein to the base. He continued fingering himself as he sucked off the dark haired man above him for several minutes before Sherlock pulled away, dropping the remainder of his clothes to the floor and crawling on the bed behind John. John pulled his hand away and placed it on the bed as support. Sherlock lined up and swiftly plunged his cock into John in one stroke, pausing for only a moment to allow his lover to grow accustomed to the sensation before beginning to pound into him mercilessly. 

They continued to rut against one another hard and fast; John balled his hands into the sheets as his body reveled in the delicious mixture of pleasure and pain, Sherlock’s large hands gripping his hips so hard he knew he would have bruises by the time the night was up as his cock repeatedly hit his prostate. Before the doctor knew it, he was tumbling over the edge of his orgasm without even touching his own prick, soiling the bed beneath him. Sherlock was not far behind him, losing his rhythm before filling his arse. 

The couple fell back on the bed together, John resting his head on Sherlock’s chest, their legs intertwining. As they slowly caught their breath, John sat up to look his detective in the eye. “No more work tonight.” He said simply, leaving no room for argument. 

Sherlock smiled up at him, “You’re going to have to work to keep me here,” 

“Oh,” John replied, leaning down to kiss his partner, “That shouldn’t be a problem.” 


End file.
